My Boss, My Boyfriend
by Cal reflector
Summary: Villetta's new boss is cool, calculating, and handsome. He's also eight years younger than she is. Loosely based around the story "Lelouch of Britannia."
1. Chapter 1

**My Boss, My Boyfriend. Part I.**

_For Second Harrier, whose story "Friends Indeed" is one of my favorites—if quality of writing alone sold books he should be rich. Two years ago he requested several prompts and I chose to write about Lelouch and Villetta and what a relationship between them would look like. Loosely based around the AU fic, Lelouch of Britannia._

_This will be a short project in two parts._

* * *

Villetta examined herself one last time in front of the bathroom mirror: Buttons polished, uniform creased, lint and loose threads clipped. Her straight silver hair was tied neatly behind her neck, not one strand out of place.

"Alright, here we go."

She stepped out and started down the hallway. Like the regiment itself, the headquarters was much a work in progress—funds for refurbishing the forty-year old building were delayed, so the commander paid out of pocket to get the contractors started—as workers stripped wall, installed cable, painted and carpeted. It was chaotic, but the energy in the air was palpable; the beginning of something new.

Villetta was surprised when Jeremiah called them nearly a year ago. They met and he described the prince glowingly. Gathering them in, He revealed the army's plan to raise new regiments, and how His Highness had arranged to obtain command of one.

She was skeptical, Kewell was derisive. "A pipedream; the army has too many colonels and not enough regiments. Even Cornelia started at captain leading a KMF squad."

"Ha! What do you know about politics?" Jeremiah flicked a peanut at Kewell's nose, provoking a tit-for-tat until Villetta slapped their hands like unruly children. "Just wait and see. This boy is special. His time is coming."

Three months after Army beat Navy in football, halting a nine-year losing streak, High Command—amidst its periodic list of retirements, promotions, and relocations—announced the formation of the 382nd Independent Regiment, to be based in Ashfordshire with His Highness Lelouch Vi Britannia commanding. Jeremiah called again, "We have posts to fill. I put in a word for you both. Get over here now."

She came. Half out of respect for Jeremiah, who was never as dumb as Kewell made him out to be, half out of curiosity. Now that she stood outside his door, she realized she had no idea what to expect.

"Enter."

As he studied her records she studied him. He was near her height, perhaps an inch or two taller, and slight, so slight she wondered if he weighed less than she did.

"Your family is in wine making." His fine, almost feminine lashes framed half-lidded eyes as he read. "Sonoma, lovely this time of year. What's the name of your label?"

"There's been some mistake, sir." Villetta straightened her back; after so many years, her skin had grown thick talking about her roots to the upper class. "My father was a grape picker."

"I know. Jeremiah told me."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wanted to hear you say it." He turned a page. "You applied many times for transfer to conflict zones. You don't seem like a war junky so I interpret that as career boosting. Am I wrong?"

She felt her face grow hot, and she replied with heat that, in retrospect, surprised even herself. "Those of us not highborn must try harder, Sir."

"Good! I like ambition. I'm ambitious myself." Ignoring her astonishment, he closed her file. "You're hired. You'll lead second battalion, your new rank is O-4. Jim outside will handle the paperwork."

Her mouth hung open. She came to interview for a transfer and was promoted five years ahead of time. "I don't know what to say, Sir. The Promotion Board will never allow it."

"What's the point of being highborn if you can't get away with things?" Lelouch shrugged and offered his hand, smiling for the first time since she walked through his door. "Welcome aboard, major."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"That's all for today: Kewell will see the quartermaster, Jeremiah the motor pool." The regiment had arrived in Morocco and was settling in. "Oh, and one more thing."

The three senior officers of the 382nd looked up from packing their briefcases. Their prince tilted his chin up towards the floor above. "This mobile base's living quarters have two bedrooms. Which of you will be staying in the other?"

They three exchanged looks: The base facilities of Area Eight were comfortable—too comfortable, perhaps, for the two divisions already there rarely strayed from it—but once on the move, the regiment would rely on hybrid tents and portable latrines, if available. The commander's quarters had luxuries like a private shower, kitchenette, and a real toilet. Out in the desert these amenities would not be small things.

"Well, there's no question." Kewell cleared his throat, "Major Nu should have the room."

"Thank you, but I shouldn't enjoy preferential treatment."

Jeremiah scratched his chin. "Rock paper scissors?"

"Kewell is right." Lelouch weighed in, "The regiment is overwhelmingly male, and it would be easier for all if Major Nu stayed here, to avoid having to schedule workarounds in the common facilities."

Kewell was a gentleman; her commander was pragmatic. The prince almost always had a practical reason ready to explain his actions.

XxXxX

"_So you're living with your boss."_

"No, I am not." Villetta dried her voluminous hair while sitting on her bed, the phone—an unexpected benefit she was grateful to have for calling home—pressed to her ear. "How come anything that comes out of your lips turns scandalous?"

"_It's the power of my reality distortion field, which enables me to see the world as I wish it, then bend others to my will." _The sound of Nonette munching on nachos was transmitted along crisply, and Villetta wondered again why her friend was chosen to be a Knight of the Round.

"In any case, it's nothing like you think. We keep to ourselves, it's all very professional."

"_I'm sure. That boy is sculpted from ice."_ Nonette chuckled, _"He could use a good thawing from the embrace of an older woman."_

"Cornelia would kill me."

"_Who said anything about you? I was volunteering."_ The Knight laughed aloud, _"Just joking. But seriously, he's a teenage boy. All boys are interested in women, even if they pretend not to… especially when they pretend not to. So lock your undies."_

"You're ridiculous."

"_Am I? You share a bathroom, right?"_

Villetta sighed as she turned off the drier. "Yes, there's only one. He's very neat."

"_So you take turns, and when he goes after you he showers in a confined space filled with the fragrance of your shampoo and body wash… hah, hah."_

"Nonette, you're panting. Stop it."

XxXxXxX

A banquet was given to celebrate the Empire's string of victories. Their relentless campaign eroded the NAL's capacity to wage war, prompting local governments to begin peace talks. Officers from the XIV and XV Divisions crowded the ballroom. Many toasted her on the 382nd's accomplishments, lamenting how they were ever late to the party and relegated to picking up stragglers. She also overheard jealous murmurs, but it was a credit to the officer corps that these were far and few between.

And then the evening took a dive for the worse.

"Ah, if it isn't Villetta Nu, my brother's doll."

Villetta was glad that Jeremiah and Kewell were not around, for they would have undoubtedly retaliated, royalty and rank be damned. "Good evening, your highness."

Prince Geoffrey, commander of the XIV division, ignored her words even as he eyed her appreciatively. "And what a pretty doll she is, even better in the flesh."

"Isn't she?"

"Exquisite. I would be shocked if little brother didn't take her to bed with him every night."

Alfred nodded emphatically, spilling a bit of his daiquiri. "That explains it. How else does a peasant girl rise so quickly in this meritocratic institution of ours?"

"By merit, unlike some here."

They found Lelouch dressed in white dress uniform and gold braid. Villetta thought he posed a dashing figure. "In the past week Lieutenant Colonel Nu's unit captured 6,000 prisoners and 35 knightmare frames; she personally destroyed four in combat. Her achievements are well documented and indisputable."

Lelouch sipped his drink, club soda with mint syrup. "Equally well documented are the absenteeism and debacles of the XIV and XV Divisions, the last of which was the shelling of a village which surrendered to us without struggle, a tragedy and great embarrassment to our cause."

Geoffrey seethed. "We could have handled that, had it not been for your bloody mouthpiece, that blackguard Diethard Reed."

"Even supposing he is my mouthpiece, he would have had no scoop had you not gone looking for someone—anyone—to kill, just to show you're doing something."

"Watch yourself, Lelouch." Jeffrey approached, but even a head taller, he failed to make his younger half-brother flinch, "Nails that stick out get smashed."

"Better aim well."

Villetta exhaled after the pair stormed away. "Was it necessary to provoke them?"

"Necessary? No, that was for fun. They did get one thing right though."

"Which was?"

"You do look very nice this evening."

"Why thank you." She had caught a glimpse of the mischievous teen, grinning from beneath the coolness and authority; carried away, unable to stay his tongue where a wiser man might have diffused the situation without leaving such enmity. She hoped it would not return to haunt him.

XxXxXxXxX

He was lucky to be alive.

Villetta bit her lip when she undid the bandages around his neck, revealing the angry purple bruises from the assassin's grip, who remained unidentified. Had she hesitated a few seconds more before pulling the trigger… "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for." The white bandages were his idea; generously wrapped and visible with collar unbuttoned. He wanted everyone to see that their general had met the enemy eye to eye and killed him, with scars to show for it. Every danger was an opportunity to him and he exploited each ruthlessly, but to what end?

She squeezed his shoulders gently. "I'll double the sentry."

"Thank you."

XxXxXxXxX

When the remnants of their blocking force reached Phase Line F, Villetta was too exhausted to even lift her head. But when she heard—felt, even sitting in her cockpit—the impact of friendly heavy artillery, her spirit was gauged the direction and distance of the rounds and she felt her heart sink.

"Kewell."

She went back and found the enemy attack broken off. Kewell's disabled Sutherland was surrounded by a smoldering ring of devastation, yet miraculously remained intact. Prying open the cockpit, she was met with the smell of cigars and the still form of her friend, with two packs of combat gauze pressed against his side. Medics were called up, and as they had exhausted their supply of plasma, whole blood transfusion was performed immediately: Her blood type was A, he was AB. When Jeremiah arrived he found them lying side by side.

Finally a Medevac transport arrived. Kewell was flown away, still in critical condition. Jeremiah went with him, and she remained, emotionally and physically drained.

"Villetta."

It was the prince, dressed in dirty tanker's fatigues, a carbine slung over his shoulder.

"Your highness…" She tried to stand but was overtaken by dizziness. He caught her and she leaned into him, letting him support her as her eyes drifted close. "Is it true? Did we win?"

His voice was unusually husky from all the shouting. "Yes, thanks to you."

"Kewell, he…"

"I heard. He's tough, he'll pull through. He must." She felt him embrace her closer as sleep pulled on her every cell. This time she gave in.

XxXxXxXxX

"Soon people will expect you to wear a dress for these occasions, now that you're a baroness."

Lelouch found her on a balcony outside the imperial palace's grand ball room, where over a thousand guests gathered to celebrate their accomplishments. Villetta still wore her dress uniform, now adorned with two additional medals.

"Ball gowns make me feel naked; you're hardly wearing anything at all." She turned and smiled as she leaned against the railing. "At least the material would be cooler."

"Cornelia never liked dresses much either; said she can't run in them."

"Is that what you're doing? Running away?"

He chuckled. "You have me. A crush of ladies surrounded me, all speaking in tongues: upcoming theater, plans for my new estates, how well brought up their daughters and nieces and granddaughters were. I barely escaped."

"Of course no one recommends their sister." She joined his laughter. It felt good to laugh, to breathe air free of smoke and debris. The evening breeze carried up fragrance from the sprawling rose garden, and for some time the prince and the lady said nothing and enjoyed the recess in silence. It was a trait they shared; aversion to crowds and relief in familiar company. "So what happens next?"

He unbuttoned his top button and sighed. "We need to organize the new division. Integrate equipment, promote people, hire laterally. Lots of adding and shuffling."

She finished her drink, hailed a waiter and picked up a glass of champagne. She knew his main concern. "Kewell?"

"He promised to stay until we settled on a suitable successor." Lelouch frowned; although he endorsed Kewell's application to join General Staff, where he would be advocate, eyes, and ears for him, it was still a great loss. "I'm still surprised by his decision."

"A near-death experience can make people think. High Command was always his dream, and by staying in Pendragon he can be with his sister."

She hoped Lelouch would think too, after so many close calls, for himself and everyone who cared about him.

Lelouch leaned against the railing next to her as he looked across the garden and over to the forest beyond. She watched his profile; in moments of deep thought such as this it was easy for her to forget that he was just seventeen, and the man she had come to deeply admire. She wished him all the happiness that the future offered… if only he would accept.

The orchestra started up again. The prince spun to face her, their proximity catching her off guard. "Shall we dance?"

"It would be my honor." Never mind that they would stick out like a pair of sore thumbs, both in military dress. "Who will lead?"

"Whatever the lady wishes."

XxXxXxXxX

Slowly, things began to change.

Perhaps it was from the amount of time they spent together, from early in the morning often until late at night. He worked harder than anyone else, leaving the rest of the division to try and keep up. A few times she found him asleep at his office desk. She carried him to the sofa and covered him with a blanket before turning out the lights. On other occasions, when she accompanied him on some necessary function with military and civil leaders, he would fall asleep on the ride back to Aries Palace.

She enjoyed watching him sleep; it took the edge off his normally serious features.

One morning, she showed up and found the office abuzz. "What's going on?"

One of the girls giggled. "The general brought flowers for everyone. He said, I quote, 'This place could use some color.'"

Indeed, on every desk was a small bouquet, each one different. Some were sunny white and yellow, some pink and gay. It was a nice gesture, and it was very much the prince's way to pay compliments even to the secretaries.

When she unlocked her office door, she found on her desk a vase filled with fresh violets. No one else received violets. She wondered if he was merely distinguishing her, a senior officer, from the civilian employees, or whether there was more meaning behind the flowers of her namesake.

XxXxXxXxX

"Why are we even looking at this individual?"

Lelouch had loosened his tie. Jeremiah propped his feet on the table, on top of which were a humongous pile of applicant's files. "He's a relation of someone important, remember? You asked for those."

"Oh right." The prince looked like he caught a whiff of bad cheese. "Well, maybe there's a niece or nephew of someone even _more_ important hiding somewhere in these stacks."

Jeremiah crumbled his paper cup into a ball and aimed it at the dustbin by the door; basketball was in season. "If we must take on some deadweight in return for political support, damned if we don't get a good price."

"Precisely." They chuckled. The first time they failed to do this they ended up with hand-me-down Glasgows and mothballed tanks, though the latter ended up saving their skins.

Jeremiah launched his shot, which arced through the air towards its mark… and hit Villetta square in the face, who happened to enter at that moment. As the ball bounced and rolled away, she turned slowly to Lelouch. "General, it has come to my attention that you have not taken the annual fitness exam."

He stared at the "PT" stretched across the front of her tight gray shirt and swallowed. She wore a field cap, wraparound sunglasses, a whistle, and stopwatch. Villetta was a medaling decathlete in college and despised flab and feebleness; no one was more offended when TV happened to show images of comically obese soldiers. "I've been uh, busy."

"Those who fail to score at least 160 are discharged, no exceptions." She looked at her clipboard and grinned, sending a chill down both men's spines. "Last time you barely passed with Jeremiah helping you prepare. This time I'll do the honors. We'll aim for a modest improvement to, say, 220."

Lelouch turned deathly white—He nearly died trying to reach 160. Jeremiah attempted to rescue his master. "Um, look Villetta, I know fitness is important, but…"

"You've gained some weight since we came back, Jeremiah. Maybe you'd like to join us?"

"No thank you."

As he was dragged away by the arm, Lelouch glared back at Jeremiah, who hid behind a binder and pretended to be busy. He wanted no part of Villetta's tough love regimen.

XxXxXxXxX

"You've changed."

"Hmm?" Villetta was assembling a piece of pear and prosciutto on her plate. She would soon travel to Area Eleven with Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally at Governor Clovis' invitation. Nonette and a few girlfriends, including Monica and Dorothea from the Knights of the Round, decided to give her a sendoff.

Monica continued. "When we first met, I thought you were cool and professional. You still are, but you seem… softer, now. More relaxed."

"She got herself a man." Nonette said as she slurped down an oyster.

Dorothea rolled her eyes before giving Villetta a knowing smile, which she returned. "The baroness is probably just happy for the break in the war."

Nonette sighed. "No war, no men, if I were you I'd be bored to tears."

"The prince keeps me busy."

"I'll bet he does." The Knight of Nine swirled the Chablis in its glass before taking a sip. "Seriously, the two of you spend more time together than a married couple; the only difference is you don't sleep together."

Monica, the youngest of the group, blushed furiously; even Dorothea was embarrassed. "Nonette!"

Instead of brushing off her friend's baseless fancies, within the deep recesses of her innermost thoughts, Villetta imagined what being with the Prince would be like: Would they date? Had he ever dated before? Would nine… eight years be too much a gap even for him? "I could do worse."

The dumbstruck looks on her companions' faces made her realize she had mused her last thought aloud. Wine dribbled out of one corner of Nonette's lips. "No! That's not what I…"

"Sorry I'm late." Cornelia, dressed casually for change, arrived slightly short of breath. "Road construction. Pendragon is always being patched up. So, what are we talking about?"

All four ladies shook their heads. It was a subject too taboo to even jest about before the Princess-the subject of Lelouch dating, nearly as taboo as the subject of Princess Euphemia dating. Nonette was first to recover, wiping her chin furiously. "Nothing! Here, have some of this virgi… fresh olive focaccia. It's divine."

_To be Continued._


	2. Chapter 2

**My Boss, My Boyfriend: Chapter 2**

"So tell me about this girl."

Lelouch fidgeted like a pupil made to sit before the schoolmaster's desk. He had no choice; there were no other male role models that he could see for advice on relationships: Jeremiah and Villetta went way back and he didn't wish to put his right hand man in an awkward position. Darlton, his military mentor, was a bachelor at age forty-something; hardly promising. Schneizel was eminently qualified, but Lelouch was wary of sharing his intentions with the Chancellor who had more layers than an onion.

His father was out of the question. That left Clovis. The governor, to his dubious credit, cleared his calendar for the rest of the afternoon when his call came. "I'd rather not."

The self-titled Love Doctor wagged his finger. "How can a coach game plan if he doesn't know the opponent? You have to give me something to go on."

Lelouch conceded the point. "Okay. She's intelligent, self-disciplined, and loyal."

"Sounds like the ideal employee."

"She's driven to succeed and has a surprisingly caring side, though she does not often show it."

Clovis jotted down a few notes. "Age?"

The uneasy feeling returned. "Older."

"One year? Two?"

"Nine…. Well, eight."

"Eight years! Punching above our weight, are we? Well, that's normal for boys your age." The governor mused nostalgic for a moment before scribbling some more. "Married?"

Lelouch dropped his biscuit. "Why would I be interested in a married woman?"

"Many attractive women are married." Schneizel stated matter-of-factly, "Some are easier to approach because of that; boredom, mainly. Just look at the divorce numbers."

The eleventh prince muttered something beneath his breath and crossed his arms. "No. Single."

"That's good. Don't want to try flying before we learn to crawl." Lelouch was about to say something, but couldn't think of anything responsive to his brother's logic; Clovis continued. "Line of work?"

"Military officer."

Clovis looked up from his notepad, suspicion and horror creeping across his face. "It's not Cornelia, is it? Because I tell you right now that that would be…"

"No!"

About half an hour later Clovis put down his pencil. "And now the most important question: How does she feel about you?"

Lelouch crossed his arms and cocked his head to one side—It was impossible to know what women were feeling, especially since they never gave hints. "I'm not sure. One time I brought her flowers; a week later she took me out to the field and nearly PTed me to death."

"Sounds like we have an uphill battle ahead of us."

XxXxXxXxXxX

There was a knock on her door. "Come in."

Lelouch walked in wearing the doubled breasted uniform of Ashford Academy. He tugged at his sleeve self-consciously. "Just came from school. This helps me blend in when I move around campus."

"It suits you very well."

"Thank you." He remained standing, and Villetta waited; surely the prince wasn't here just to show off his new wardrobe. Finally he produced from behind him a pair of tickets. "Um, I have these. Clovis' box, best seats in the house. He's busy tomorrow night and I overheard you say that _Les Miserable _sold out three months ago."

"That's awfully generous of the Governor." She looked from the tickets—worth more than their weight in gold—to the man holding them. "I didn't know you liked musicals, sir."

"I don't dislike them. I've just been to more operas." He cleared his throat. "In any case, officially, I am in Area Eleven on vacation. You are also officially on vacation. It would be appropriate if occasionally we were seen in public acting like we're on vacation, to allay suspicions of our purpose being otherwise."

"I see." He was impeccably rational as usual. She clicked her mouse a few times on a blank spot on a webpage. "How about Miss Stadtfeld or Miss Ashford? I'm sure they'd be thrilled if you asked them."

The corner of his eye twitched. "They wouldn't like musicals."

She suppressed a smile—Villetta did not know about Kallen, but she knew Millicent Clara Ashford was an accomplished pianist and soprano. Musical inclinations aside, she doubted either would have said no even if he asked them to a monster truck rally. "In that case, I'd be glad to accept your generous offer."

XxXxXxX

"_Now listen carefully, Lelouch. Courtship, at its most basic, has not evolved much over the centuries. In the age of Neanderthals, you went out, found a female, clubbed her over the head and dragged her back to your cave."_

"_I'm pretty sure that was from the Sunday edition, and not…"_

"_Father's approach is similar, except instead of a club, he knocks them silly with a palace and the promise of luxury and leisure."_

"_Is that what you're suggesting?"_

"_Of course not. Mere princes like us have no spare palaces; we must charm. Lesson One: Always pretend you're listening to their troubles. That shows empathy and sensitivity, two very important qualities that women find attractive." _

_Lelouch looked up from his notes. "You're assuming they'll talk a lot about their troubles. And why would I pretend to listen when I could just listen?"_

_Clovis laughed._

Lelouch found it difficult to remember all the dos and don'ts that the governor made him remember as he admired the woman sitting across the table. Villetta wore a rich wine-colored evening gown that flattered her figure far more than a stiff uniform ever could. The room felt warm; he drained his water and signaled the waiter for more. "So, any troubles in life?"

"No, not really."

"Nothing to complain about?"

The baroness shook her head. "No."

"I see. That's nice." Lelouch picked up his fork and knife and attacked his appetizer, cursing his brother and himself for buying into his brother's snake oil. "This octopus is a bit overcooked."

Afterwards they proceed to the theater, where they received a standing ovation from the audience. When the curtains were raised the pair was paid little further attention. The show was superb as reviewed, and Lelouch was gratified to see that his companion was enthralled throughout the performance.

It was late when the show concluded. Lelouch instructed the chauffeur to drop Villetta off first. In the confines of the rear compartment, her scent—a deep, dark fragrance—and the vision of her profile formed an intoxicating cocktail that the prince drank in.

"I can see tomorrow's headlines." She turned to him with a look of mischief, "_Black Prince Attends Dramatization of French Revolution; Heard Humming __La Marseillaise Afterwards_."

"What scandal." He chuckled, tilting his head towards his companion. "I want a draft press release on my desk first thing Monday morning. Say my date for the evening, Baroness Nu, has unduly influenced me towards the cause of the Third Estate."

"To assuage Pendragon, we should also say witnesses saw the Prince stand and cheer when the king's soldiers stormed the rebel barricade."

"Naturally. I am nothing if politically correct."

He walked her to the glass-enclosed lobby of the tall apartment complex. Despite mixed results from Clovis' bag of tricks, he was sorry to see the evening end. It was only when she swiped open the door with her keycard that he remembered one of the lessons Clovis kept repeating, repeating, and repeating, and which he forgot the moment he laid eyes on her earlier in the evening. "Villetta!"

She turned around, and the words stuck in his throat before he finally gathered his courage.

"You look beautiful tonight."

The words had a magical effect, lighting up her face with pleasure. It bewildered Lelouch how stating the plainly obvious could be so powerful.

She stepped back across the entrance, and with a moment's hesitation, leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Good night, sir."

The prince remained rooted to the spot for he did not know how long. His fingers lingered on the spot, which emanated warmth that spread as far as his toes. When he finally came to he started back, whipped out his phone and speed dialed five.

"Clovis? I'll need the box next week; actually, for the foreseeable future… Well, Lady Lorelei will just have to go general admission."

XxXxXxXxX

Villetta collapsed onto her bed. Her heels lay in the hallway, her handbag flung into the corner. She was still dazed by what just happened and her mind was a whirl. She had just broken whole pages of regulations, regulations in place for very good reasons.

"It was nothing." She hugged an oversized pillow to her chest and drew her knees up into a curl, "A greeting, like saying goodbye or hello."

But she knew she had not been saying hello. She should have known something was off when she spent an hour before the mirror—her entire wardrobe spread over across the room—regretting declining Monica's invitation to shop for new clothes before her trip to Area Eleven; when he showed up in a tuxedo, sharp and suave, and she thought he could have passed for twenty-one; when he said she was beautiful, words she didn't know she'd be waiting for all night.

Panicked realization set in and she buried her face in the pillow. "Oh God."

XxXxXxXxX

"You've been spending time with Baroness Nu."

"Of course." Lelouch glanced from the board to the Chancellor's face on the screen. "We work together."

"I think it's wonderful." Schneizel moved a pawn. "Many social occasions require a companion, and having someone to help remind and remember details is always useful."

While what the Second Prince said was completely true, the value of Villetta's company had long since ceased to be merely useful to him. Schneizel did not need to know that though. "I'm also building cover. You must know how many countries are paying attention to what I'm doing here."

"True, we can never be too careful." The Chancellor turned briefly to listen to an aide before thanking her.

Lelouch exhaled. Truthfully, his secret mission as Schneizel's liaison to keep an eye on Camelot took up so little time it hardly qualified as a part-time job. This gave him time for other pursuits, like building cover—never was the saying "my work is my pleasure" more true.

"On the subject of cover; you might consider spending time with different girls, so as to not impose too much on Lady Nu," Schneizel picked up Lelouch's bishop. "And create false expectations."

In retrospect, Lelouch was glad he ignored Schneizel's sage counsel.

XxXxXxX

For a week after, Villetta and her boss carried on as if the fateful evening never took place. She was privately relieved. Their relationship had been simpler when they were in Africa: Faced with dangers daily, survival demanded they trust each other completely. Now, as evidence of her unprofessional feelings for him mounted, she was forced to dismiss those feelings—_it was the third glass of champagne; the show had left her sentimental—_in order to hide them from him.

By the second week of returning to normalcy, she began to wonder what if any reaction he had to her kiss.

_And if none, why not?_

Could it be that the prince was so used to women that a kiss was indeed like saying hello? She remained firm in her belief that what she saw at the hotel—Kallen Stadtfeld straddling the prince in the steam-filled shower—was not what it seemed. Now she began to doubt.

Before the Prince and Princess moved to Ashford Academy, Villetta screened the handful of people who had regular access to the clubhouse: With the exception of Rivalz, all were female; all pretty, all young.

_Perhaps he only responds to girls his own age._

Twenty minutes later, Lelouch's was dismayed when his office door flew open and Villetta marched in dressed for workout. "I thought our session was not until Thursday."

"Something extra to help blow off steam."

XxXxXxX

Lelouch phoned Clovis, his body in knots from the afternoon's grueling regimen, where Villetta made him do things with poles he never cared to repeat. Clovis assured him that this was a good sign and everything was proceeding according to plan. _"The best way to catch an opponent is to draw back and let them chase you. You of all people should know this."_

"You imply being caught is a good thing. I fail to see how being left in a mangled heap is desirable."

"_Semantics. Anyhow, you've bid your time long enough. Time for action."_

The phone rang in Villetta's apartment. Feeling much refreshed from the afternoon's workout, she answered the phone. "Hello?"

"_Hi. It's me."_

"Hello." He sounded worn-out; her satisfaction from seeing him carried off the field on a stretcher was fleeting, and she felt awful afterwards. "How are you doing?"

"_Sore."_

"I see. I apologize for being a little… rough today. We can skip Thursday, if you like."

"_I would like that very much."_

"Okay." She toweled her silver hair as she waited on the silence from the other end; she could visualize him doing the very same thing. Maybe that was their problem. "Is there anything else?"

"_No, yes. I mean, it seems we have not talked lately. I thought I should call." _

She was puzzled; they saw and talked to each other almost every day.

"_Outside of work."_

Villetta's hands stopped. "Is there a need for us to talk outside of work?"

The words came out harsher than she intended, and she regretted them.

"_I hope so. I rather enjoyed the last time we did." _Her breath caught. _"I meant two weeks ago, not today. Today was no fun." _

"It was not that bad." She laughed—not because of the dread in his tone, but his earnestness—and rolled onto her back feeling something light bubbling up inside. "But I agree; I had a lot of fun that night."

"_Good, good. So, I will call you from time to time, perhaps see you outside of work. Would that be alright?"_

"Yes. I would like that very much."

_To be Continued_

* * *

Author's notes: Thanks for waiting. Part two is done; part three, the final part is next. I have been exhausted by work lately and as a result writing has suffered, supplanted by sleep on train rides and on weekends.

I have also fallen in love with Chihayafuru, the anime, which a friend recommended to me. I'll be writing fic of it shortly.


End file.
